


Symbiotic Dissonance

by popsongnation



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-19
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-10-24 10:23:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/262413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popsongnation/pseuds/popsongnation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of more or less unconnected ficlets and drabbles. Bakurae, sometimes Tendershipping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Contact

**Author's Note:**

> All my _Yu-Gi-Oh!_ fic, (what little there is) collected for posterity. Edited 02/14/2014 to account for my changing (and hopefully growing) understanding of anglophone grammar and punctuation in general.  
>  Also to get rid of some pronoun confusion (mostly he/it in regards to the spirit; I seem to be unable to pick one and stick with it, but I made it so it is at least consistent within one ficlet/chapter).  
> Lastly, I edited chapter posting dates to reflect the original posting dates, which for the most part fall well before I had an AO3 account.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When _his_ hands touched the ring, the Thief King knew that the waiting was over.

He had waited millennia.

When _his_ hands touched the ring, the Thief King knew that the waiting was over. He could feel it. The connection that ran so deep – two souls interwoven, two souls that once upon a time had been one. This was the one he'd been waiting for, his counterpart, the light to his darkness, his other half.

But also: His vessel, his reincarnation, his host; the one who would make him flesh again, his chance to complete the mission he had devoted himself to a long time ago. And the anger was still burning bright, his desire for revenge: He would not fail.

When Ryou first touched the ring he could feel it was warm. The paper his dad had wrapped it in as a present he'd sent home from Egypt fell on the floor, forgotten. Ryou's hands trembled as he draped the cord around his neck. He could almost hear it lock in place, but it wasn't a sound. It was a feeling, much realer, much more absolute then anything he'd ever felt before.

Once his host wore the ring, the Thief King could feel it, feel him and everything he was, everything he'd ever dreamt of or feared, everything he hoped, everything he knew, everything that defined his being. He was amazed, Ryou was so _pure_ , yet tainted by sorrow.

Ryou gasped as a dark presence flooded his thoughts, his mind, took over his very being. And he could feel the anger, the hate, the yearning for destruction, yet the _rightfulness_ of it all, the deep pain. He could feel everything all at once, it was too much, too quick, too abrupt.

And then the gates closed and it felt as if the universe itself was holding its breath. The flooding stopped, and there was Ryou and there was the ancient spirit (he could feel a presence in his mind, and it was _old_ ). Both of them needed a moment to adjust, they were feeling oddly complete, as if this was how it was supposed to be.

And then the spirit spoke, having had unlimited access to his hosts mind had given him insight in his greatest fears, and now he said the words that would unlock his heart as well:

"I'm your darkness, little light. From now on, you will never be alone again."

And Ryou, somehow knowing it was true, smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 08/19/2009 to Livejournal.


	2. Loneliness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryou Bakura never had a problem with loneliness.

Ryou Bakura never had a problem with loneliness.

Mainly, that was due to the fact that he was never alone. Even after the death of his mother and sister, when his father started to be home less and less and he became more and more self-sufficient, he wasn't ever alone.

Ever since he received the ring there had been a voice, a voice no one else could hear, a voice inside his head.

The voice would accompany him through his day, talking away the silence that was around him. It would tell him stories, stories of blood and thievery and a kingdom long gone.

Other times, the voice would be quiet, and tell Ryou to tell stories instead, there was a feeling of ancient grief in his mind, and Ryou would talk, of what his mother and sister had been like, what his father did in Egypt, what games he liked to play and how tired he was of constantly moving around and thus not being able to keep any friends.

His stories were by no means as exciting as the voice's, but it didn't seem to mind, sometimes it sounded rather interested.

Ryou knew it was looking for someone, “Someone like me or rather, like you,“ and Ryou wondered if there were more people like him, people who heard the voice of a spirit that inhabited an ancient artifact.

The spirit had plans to be followed, once he found the one he was looking for, but Ryou never exactly knew what those plans entailed. He felt however, that the spirit was full of anger and longing for vengeance. Something terrible had happened to it, that much was obvious, but it never talked about it, and Ryou never asked.

Ryou never told anybody about the voice. He didn't even mention the ring, because the spirit forbade it. It had said, if Ryou would ever betray it, it would leave him and never come back.

And he believed it. The spirit wasn't one for empty threats. Once, Ryou got beaten up in school. That was the first time the spirit took him to his soulroom. At actually _seeing_ the spirit, not just hearing it, Ryou even stopped crying. He was amazed at how much the spirit looked like him.

"It's because I _am_ you. And you are me. We are one. And no one who harms us will go unpunished."

From then on, people who threatened Ryou, which he was afraid of or even people he simply didn't like, tended to vanish. He started losing time (awakening in places he didn't fall asleep in, or even in the middle of the day walking down a busy street) but only a little, nothing big, one or two hours once or twice a week.

They were still moving around a lot, and the incidents mostly went unnoticed. He knew it was the spirits doing, and that the punishment was hardly appropriate, but all in all it wasn't worth arguing about. It was a peaceful life and later Ryou would look back on those days as the happy times.

It was only when they moved to Domino that things changed.

 -

The spirit took everything over: his mind, his name, his heart. And it never gave any of those things back. _Well, what did you expect_ , Ryou mused, _it is a thief after all._

It also kept its promise. Ryou betrayed it and ultimately, it left.

And it never came back again.

And that was when Ryou Bakura started to have a problem with loneliness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 08/30/2009 to Livejournal.


	3. It's good to be alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The spirit is gone. Ryou is alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have very ambivalent feelings about this one. I continue to like the concept and hate my execution of it, but not enough to purge it from the internet.

It made no sense, really. They couldn't believe it. He tried to explain, but it ended up sounding like crazy talk, unconnected and desperate and they told him over and over again that he didn't need to be afraid anymore; the spirit was gone. He opened his mouth to say, “That wasn't what I meant at all,“ but he couldn't form the words because he couldn't explain _what_ he meant, and it would just sound more insane than it really was, when he wouldn't find the right words, and he didn't even know if there _were_ any right words at all.

They took him home and put him in bed with a hot chocolate and a year's worth of food on the nightstand, and then left him to eat and sleep, telling him to call them when he woke up.

The door slammed shut and there was a buzzing in his ears, like a swarm of bees, and he ate to shut the noise out. It didn't work, the bees were _inside_ his head and though he was starving he didn't manage to swallow much of it, it didn't taste of anything when he knew it should, and the buzzing wouldn't go away, and then he fell asleep.

He later couldn't remember what he dreamed, but it had to be something horrible, he awoke sobbing and calling out to someone who wouldn't ever come, someone who, had anything been right at all, he wouldn't _need_ calling for, would already be there.

It all felt so _wrong_.

He discovered that the buzzing in his ears was the sound of silence, the sound a room made when there was no one in there, the sound of not-existance, the sound of _nothing_.

He couldn't think right, there was too much room, he felt like he might lose himself in the nothingness.

And of course they didn't understand.

"He's _gone,_ " they would tell him.

"Eat something for gods sake!"

"How long will it be till you can come to school? You should be alright soon, right?"

And: "You should really get out of that big and empty apartment once in a while."

And all this time he couldn't find the words, couldn't tell them that his apartment was big and empty, just like his head, couldn't ask Yuugi if he didn't feel the same, couldn't tell them about the noisy silence that didn't let him sleep, the feeling that his body was a tomb, that he couldn't taste food anymore or manage to eat it, that he couldn't _think_ , because everything was far away in the empty darkness of his head; that there was no darkness at all, just nothingness, and that, when he managed to fall asleep at all he would dream of a voice that talked away the silence and that he didn't want to wake up again and again to the sound of silence.

 -

"All he needs is time," Anzu says soothingly, and he nods and smiles weakly like he's always done. They leave, and the Nothing overtakes him.

 -

But of course, Anzu's right. Time helps. He doesn't go insane, he recovers.

He learns to move around the empty spaces in his mind, carefully, so he won't fall through the floor, clinging to sharp edges, holding on. He gains the ability to think _around_ the void, forming words out of nothing, coherent thoughts that lead somewhere.

  
He forces himself to eat something, his body feeling too bony to be healthy. It still tastes like nothing, but he decides he can live with it.

He finds he can live with a lot of things, or rather, live _around_ them like the thoughts in his head.  
He fights the silence with noise, radio and TV always blaring at top volume, even at night. He fights the dreams with pills he orders online, dreamless sleep being a bliss he encounters for the first time. He'd always dreamt of something.

He paints the mirrors in his apartment black, because he can't stand his reflection.

When he finally goes back to school, two months after the Endgame, he just avoids toilets and places he knows contain mirrors. He doesn't leave the house often, only to attend class and buy groceries, so it mostly works.

"We're glad you're back among the living," Yugi says, speaking for all of them.

"Yes," Ryou says. "It's good to be alive."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 09/10/2009 to Livejournal.


	4. Morning Activities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's just another regular morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drabble.

Faded colors, dewdrops glistening on the bushes and a pale sun relentlessly rising, casting shadows on the schoolyard.  
"Can I copy your homework?" Yuugi asks, sitting down next to him, quiet voice barely registering to Ryou, who's focused on the task he's trying to complete. Without breaking his internal concentration, he looks at him and nods. He's visualizing a path.  
 _'Come back, please come back,'_ he thinks intently, mind reaching out to places far beyond.  
 _'I am,'_ it resonates through his mind.  
He smiles at Yuugi, handing over his notebook, while he can feel the familiar presence drawing nearer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 09/30/2009 to Livejournal.


	5. Strawberries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryou likes things that are not good for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this one was crackfic, written for a prompt, so don't take it too seriously.

As soon as he heard the steps outside his room, he knew he was in trouble. Unfortunately, the doors in his mind had no locks (at least not ones the spirit couldn't break, so the whole concept of locks was ridiculous and had therefore been given up on).

"Why do you _do_ that?"

He was furious, and rightfully so.

Ryou simply stared.

"You thought I wouldn't notice it? Seriously?"

"I...."

"No excuses, no _fucking_ excuses!" Ryou had never heard him swear like this, it sounded so... modern, primitive, mundane, all things the spirit clearly _wasn't_.

"Are you _trying_ to kill yourself? You know I won't allow it. I simply won't allow it! You will not die without me deciding it. You _won't_."

Ryou could feel the room around him vanishing, the bed he sat on, the walls, all those carefully build illusions, blurring and becoming shapeless dust, the whole thing swirling in a way that was making him sick when he watched it happening, so he focused on the spirit's face, contorted in anger and....was that fear?

The sickness, of course, was an illusion as well. If he just let it happen he wouldn't feel it, nor see the walls dissolve into dots of color that were slowly, one by one, vanishing.

He got so dizzy he simply resorted to closing his eyes until it was over. He wouldn't give up though. The spirit was breaking down his resistance, forcing them _out_.

As he opened his eyes, he was standing, or well, _floating_ in his kitchen, in spirit form, the spirit in possession of the body standing across from him, arms folded and glaring.

"Well?"

He decided he was allowed (or even expected), to speak then, as the spirit's anger seemed to have at least temporarily subsided. He was staring disgustedly on the basket of strawberries that sat on the table.

Ryou swallowed. "I...just like the taste?" It came out more like a question than an actual explanation. In truth there simply was no good reason for him eating strawberries. After all, he was allergic.

"Do you also like your throat swelling until you can't breath anymore?" the spirit asked sarcastically.

Ryou tried a half-smile. "Maybe I like things that are bad for me in general."

The other couldn't keep from laughing then. It sounded cruel and pained and delighted all at once. Ryou vaguely wondered how he managed that. Or maybe he was just hearing things that weren't there.

"Indeed you do." Chuckling darkly he closed the space between them and kissed Ryou, hard and raw as if to claim his property.

"You are mine, landlord," he whispered in Ryou's ear. "Don't you ever damage what is mine."

Ryou simply kissed him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 10/14/2009 to Livejournal.


	6. Voices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These were the only times that he would ever go there, the times when the walls came to life and the spirits of the long-dead came to pay their respects to the keeper of the ring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double Drabble.

Voices in his head, whispering, whispering.  
Ryou's head was a dark place at those times. When they came they displaced all the light, and shrouded his mind in darkness.  
He tried to stay away, he tried not to listen, tried to celebrate those few moments of freedom when the thief was too far away to notice, but he couldn't.  
He could feel it seeping through the walls, and before he knew it he found himself in his soulroom again, opening the door to the small corridor between his room and the spirit's.

These were the only times that he would ever go there, the times when the walls came to life and the spirits of the long-dead came to pay their respects to the keeper of the ring.  
The thief would be sitting in the darkest corner, silent and shaking as he watched the people of Kul Elna burn inside their void in time.  
Ryou'd never gotten over the sight of the cold spirit at his weakest; he wouldn't even acknowledge the impious intrusion until Ryou was to touch it's shoulder.  
And Ryou would slump down beside him on the cold stone floor, and keep him company until the flames died out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 11/17/2009 to Livejournal.


	7. Back Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you could live your life all over again, what would you do differently?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to play with the idea of a time loop, of people living the same life over and over again. Thus this crappy ficlet was born.

He is sitting in the kitchen in front of an half-eaten bowl of cereal, when it all comes back to him.  
The rush of emotions and images, the knowledge of all what had been and will be again sets him spinning.

The doorbell rings and he can't move, at first. It's as if reality would fall to pieces if he did, but he knows he has to.

When he's handed the package, he thinks, vaguely _This is the day it happened_ , and that he'd all but forgotten the date.

He holds it in his hands and contemplates just throwing it away this time, nothing of this would happen, would happen to him, and he'll think of something to tell his father.

He's got the chance of a new life.

Only that it has to happen. Only that it all happened before, to him. He can't change that. The damage is done. He couldn't go back to how he was before, minutes ago, a lifetime ago, even if he tried.

He unwraps the package slowly, and when the ring lies before him, stares at it for a long time, holding it and tracing the glinting gold with one finger.

Maybe he can do it better this time. Maybe something will change after all. He knows what has happened, and so will **he**. 

He takes a deep breath and drapes the ring around his neck again, thinking _Welcome back_ as intensely as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 01/14/2010 to Livejournal.


	8. On the edge of tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When everything's said and done, there's this one glowing moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I remain proud of this one, as self-indulgent as it is.

Ryou stares out of the museum window, the taste of coffee stale in his mouth. Over the skyscrapers on the other side of the road the sun is rising, and he wonders, vaguely, how long it has been since he last slept.

His fingers are stained with glue and paint and his head is eerily quiet, giving him a moment to think, to say goodbye – to his creation, to the world. In a sense, they are the same, he knows. Somewhere a long-dead heart is beating. He wonders if the spirit can feel it, like a phantom limb, somewhere in the back of his mind.

In some way, he knows, this is his masterpiece, the best he's ever built, and quietly he wonders if that's all there ever was to it, if every world he ever constructed had only been in preparation to this. He'd never believed in destiny until he met Yuugi; now it's glaringly obvious it exists – Yuugi clearly has a destiny, and therefore so does he.

It is oddly comforting, knowing that everything that happened had a reason, even if the reason is destruction. He's sure of it now, and the anger at the initial discovery has subsided. It's no use being angry at destiny.

The moment is over then.

 _Let's go home_ , the spirit says, only a voice in his head. _We need to rest._

Ryou nods, silently, leaving the atrium and locking the museum door behind him.

They go home in silence. The sky is clear and the air is crisp, it's still so early that the world looks beautiful, like a painting. The spirit is happy, Ryou can feel it, such a strange and foreign sensation that it makes him sad, although if he's sad for the world or for the spirit, who's waited so long for this, he can't say.

They reach his apartment, quiet and empty as always. Ryou feels the sudden impulse to call up Yuugi, under the pretense of asking about homework or some such; to hear his voice one last time, to give them both one last moment of normalcy. Of course he doesn't, it's way too early and he's under no delusion that the spirit would let him.

Instead he gets ready for bed, drawing the blinds closed and lying down on the mattress, abandoning his body to sleep.

He opens the eyes to his soulroom, brighter than usual, almost glowing with the same intensity as the early morning outside. He doesn't know if it's a farewell gift or his own doing, now that everything is over.

The spirit is there and he's almost relieved, everything feels final and different and he had not known what to expect.

“You've done well,” the spirit says, kissing his lips softly, and for once he can't sense any underlying malice, no conditions or expectations. He exhales, at once assured he did the right thing.

"And now?" he asks, leaning forward until there is nothing between them anymore, no fraction of space.

"We wait," the spirit whispers, breath tingling on Ryou's face, hands tenderly caressing his body.

They sink down to the floor, entangled, kissing and touching and holding each other.

They are still intertwined when Ryou drifts off into unconsciousness, knowing he might never wake again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 11/30/2010 to Livejournal.


	9. Broken Fairytale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His life was like a fairy tale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of AUish and meta. I continue to like this one as well.

Once upon a time, there was a boy called Ryou Bakura.

When Ryou was very little, he used to imagine something terrible would happen and his parents would die. Then he'd be adopted by a magical, new family.

Later, he would try to imagine what his life would be like if he wasn't himself. What if he was born to a different family, in a different country, in a different body?  
It was difficult. After all, he didn't know this person, this other version of him. Eventually, he gave up on it.

-

When Ryou was eight, something terrible happened. And there was no magical adoptive family. The house was huge and empty. His mother and sister were _gone_ , and his father quietly vanished from his life to work far away, leaving him in the care of a forgetful grandmother who'd brush his hair and tell him he looked just like his mother.

She read to him, and told him stories, fairytales about little boys and girls and the benevolent spirits that took care of them when no one else did.

He often dreamt that one of them would come to take care of him.

-

When Ryou was nine, his father sent him a package. Inside was a huge golden pendant on a leather band. And inside the pendant, there was a spirit. And it took care of him.

-

The outside world was cold and harsh, all sharp edges and hard ground. Empty of warmth, full of despair and devoid of people.  
Ryou didn't stay there often. Inside, there was a magical world full of fairies and colorful lights. There where friends to play with, and models to built.

He didn't have to listen to his grandmother's stories anymore, and he didn't need to hear his father's sobs at night.

The spirit took care of the outside world for him.

It was exactly like the stories. He could be where he wanted to be and no one would realize he was gone.

-

He still missed his mother and sister, but he could write them letters, and the spirit would take them over, and bring their letters back.

They wrote that they were well, and that they wouldn't be separated for long. If he stayed right where he was and behaved, he'd be with them before he knew it. The spirit would make sure of that.

And Ryou behaved. He created worlds, and he played. He slept a lot. Sometimes he would dream.

_(He was on an island, with people he'd never seen before, but it seemed like they knew him. There was a castle with an evil king. He wasn't himself, though. He was someone else. He watched it all happen. His dream self said things he'd never heard about, didn't even knew existed.)_

And he'd forget. It was just a dream after all. He didn't know that person.

Sometimes he'd have nightmares.

_(There was blood. Cold and pain. A dragon. People screaming his name. Darkness.)_

But mostly, he played. He built worlds, and he tore them down.

His life was like a fairytale.

-

Until it stopped.

-

He awoke on cold stone steps, not knowing where he was, or who those people were. _(Specters from his dreams?)_

They asked a lot of questions. He answered as well as he could.

His name was Ryou Bakura. He was nine years old.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 08/20/2011 to Livejournal.


	10. Wretched

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryou and the ring spirit contemplate love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the lovely [Zeta](http://waffelgewalt.tumblr.com/), whose birthday it is today. I hope this is at least a little bit what you wanted? I apologize for shortness and lack of anything resembling a plot.

Love is a wretched thing.

It’s the universe’s biggest joke, Ryou thinks, that it’s heralded above all as a force of purity and truth, of goodness. Really, there’s not a more destructive feeling in the world. And it’s not a secret at all, it’s all there in the books, Greek tragedies, the fall of Troy. But the myth is persistent.

 _It’s hardly surprising,_ the spirit says, suddenly. _After all, the core of all human weakness is wanting to believe that your own doings are good, are righteous. There is no such thing, little one. Every single instinct a sentient being has is self-preservation, and every feeling originates in selfishness._

It’s disconcerting, their thoughts being so interwoven. The spirit usually keeps itself at a distance. Maybe to not come into too close contact with Ryou’s contagious humanity. Ryou can’t say he minds; the spirit’s otherness in turn warps his thoughts, turns them dark and abysmal.

_Or maybe, that’s just you. Maybe you don’t believe them, either._

“You’d want me to think that. That I’m that way on my own, without your influence.”

 _Oh,_ the spirit chuckles, dark and menacing, _you are nothing without my influence. I’ve infected you long ago. You’re no more them than you are me._

And it is right. If Ryou met himself today, a him that never received the ring, a him that had never touched the darkness, he wouldn’t recognize himself.

“So, love is an illusion of the human mind?” He doesn’t know why he asks, nothing good will ever come of a philosophical discussion with the spirit. The spirit only leads him into darkness. Through words, as well as all other means it can use for it’s ends, Ryou knows that. That’s why the answer it gives is so surprising.

 _It’s a wish. You wish for someone to understand you, to know you completely and not hate you. You want someone to believe you are how you want to be._ It still sounds completely sincere, but even the spirit’s sincerity is acidic, has a mocking edge.

“I don’t know how I want to be.” Ryou’s lost control of his life long ago, lost sight of his goals soon after. There’s no use dreaming when your dreams are all nightmares. He doesn’t believe in a future anymore; it’s easier. The now is difficult enough to manage.

 _That makes you easy to love,_ the spirit says softly, and Ryou flinches at the sensation of ghostly fingers caressing his hair.

"You don't love," he says, but it sounds like a plea.

 _I hate,_ the spirit shrugs in Ryou's mind, _as far as emotions go it's merely a side effect._

Ryou has been told many lies during his short life span, some of them by his father, some of them by his friends, most of them by himself. He had desperately wanted to believe them all.

He's never been afraid like this. To be loved by the spirit, what would that make him?

 _What does loving me make you?_ the spirit asks.

"The opposite of good and righteous," Ryou answers.

-

The truth, Ryou reflects, as he's carrying home tubes of paint on a crisp autumn day, is that he's never run fast enough from the spirit. He will die before he reaches adulthood, of that he is sure. And he will never be happier than he is today, running errands with his own two legs, breathing the sharp, cool air, knowing that at least for now, nothing can hurt him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to AO3 on 09/25/2013.


End file.
